


boy, if you wanna go i would not mind

by mischief7manager



Category: Shield of Tomorrow (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Nonbinary Character, Other, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: "It’s not that all of Rue’s problems begin and end with their dubiously allied Orion contact. That would be giving him far too much credit. It’s just that enough of Rue’s problems begin and end with Zazrit that they feel completely justified in their brief moment of wholly unprofessional exasperation at the sequence of events that led to their current situation."Rue and Zazrit go on an away mission in hopes of getting more intel on Malgog. As with everything involving Zazrit, it doesn't quite go the way they initially hoped.





	boy, if you wanna go i would not mind

**Author's Note:**

> first fic in a non-critrole fandom *high-fives self* nice  
> given that i put this in both #ShieldofTomorrow on twitter and the aux crew discord, there is a non-zero chance that someone involved with the actual show might read this, so. um. please don't be anne rice about this, but also i'm not sorry. oops?  
> content warning for references to slavery and prostitution (orions, man. orions.) as well as canon-typical descriptions of violence. no spoilers beyond the existence of zazrit and malgog.

It starts, of course, with Zazrit. 

It’s not that all of Rue’s problems begin and end with their dubiously allied Orion contact. That would be giving him far too much credit. It’s just that  _ enough _ of Rue’s problems begin and end with Zazrit that they feel completely justified in their brief moment of wholly unprofessional exasperation at the sequence of events that led to their current situation.

Zazrit has intel on one of Malgog’s lieutenants, someone high up in his organization. High up enough that he’d know where Malgog’s center of operations is. According to Zazrit, this lieutenant, Terezad, has a standing invitation to one of the Syndicate’s most profitable business locations.

And of course it had to be Rue on the op, because nobody else they’d send on an away team is capable of being around Zazrit and still thinking with their upstairs brain. (That’s not entirely true. T’Lan doesn’t ever seem to be affected by the Orion’s charms, but the idea of sending a Vulcan on an undercover mission to a place like this is honestly laughable.) This maneuver required discretion, subterfuge, and the ability to keep Zazrit in check. 

So here Rue is, tucked into a corner booth off the main floor of an Orion brothel, dressed in clothes befitting a wealthy Syndicate client, with Zazrit pressed against their side, playing his part as one of the establishment’s workers/items of merchandise.

He hadn’t even had to change his outfit.

“Something on your mind, Commander?”

Zazrit’s arm is slung across Rue’s shoulders, and he speaks in a low voice into their ear, looking to anyone who might glance their way like a man whispering sweet nothings to a partner. 

Rue’s mouth quirks. He’s hiding it well, but they know he’s antsy at having to leave his weapons behind on this one. They couldn’t risk sending up red flags with security, but it must irk Zazrit to be running an op unarmed. At least Rue still has their crutches. “Just wondering if your charming Vulcan friend is going to come hunting for me once we’re done with this,” they reply, not taking their eyes from their scan of the people in front of them. It’s a motley mix, those of Federation species and those not weaving in and around each other, and everywhere good-looking Orions wearing seductive grins and little else. “She didn’t strike me as someone inclined to sharing.”

Zazrit snorts.”Don’t worry about V’Lu. She and I have an understanding. And besides, she knows better than to get upset over anything that happens while I’m…” He leans closer to Rue, breath warm against their neck and fingers trailing along their arm in a way someone less familiar with him might consider accidental. “...working.”

Rue raises an eyebrow at him, a wordless reminder of all the places on his body that can be manipulated to cause excruciating pain that are currently within their reach, and he backs off. “Fine, fine,” he says, shifting so he can lean back against the booth, “not into mixing business and pleasure, I get it.”

“Business first,” Rue says.

Zazrit raises an eyebrow of his own. “Pleasure later?”

Rue smirks. “That depends on your performance,” they say, their tone carefully calculated to be flirtatious, but firm. They’ve worked with Zazrit enough to know he responds best to people who engage with his cavalier attitude, but if he thinks they’ll let anything get in the way of this mission, he’s stupider than they’ve given him credit for.

Fortunately, Zazrit seems to pick up on their unspoken message. “Fair enough.” He takes a sip from his drink and wrinkles his nose. “I still say ordering alcohol would’ve been better for our cover.”

“Better for the cover,” they respond, “worse for reaction time and coordination.”

He glances at them sidelong. “Are you expecting a fight?”

Their mouth quirks. “I’m always expecting a fight. It’s how I’ve stayed alive this long.”

He chuckles, and looks for a moment like he’s going to respond, but he spots something on the other side of the room and his eyes widen. Rue sighs internally. This is about the point in the op when they were expecting something to go wrong. “What is it?”

Zazrit swears, something short and sharp in Low Orion. “Old friend of mine. She’s supposed to be on the other side of the quadrant right now.” He swears again.

Casually, Rue turns their head and follows Zazrit’s gaze. Just entering is a breathtakingly beautiful Orion woman, removing a long coat to reveal a shimmering, slinky dress showing miles of smooth green skin. She smiles at one of the attendants. It’s a predatory expression. 

“What happens if she sees you?” Rue asks, not taking their eyes off her.

“I get dragged in front of everyone important in the Syndicate and painfully executed, if she doesn’t just shoot me on sight.” Zazrit runs a hand through his hair. “We gotta go.”

Rue glares at him. “We’ll blow our cover. We’ll  _ lose our lead. _ ”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, well, I’d prefer to lose the lead and keep my head attached to my body for another day, alright? I-” He cuts off, muttering a low curse. “Shit, she’s looking this way, there’s no time, we have to-”

Rue’s crutches are propped against the booth next to them. This means their hands are free to haul themself practically into Zazrit’s lap and drag his mouth up to theirs in a kiss. 

For a man in the middle of a rising panic, Zazrit takes to being abruptly kissed quite well. He catches on immediately, pulling Rue closer so that anyone watching would see only Rue’s back and a green-skinned arm wrapping around their waist, another green hand coming up to cradle their head. His nails scrape through Rue’s shorn hair and over their scalp, and they clamp down on a reflexive shiver. The hand on Rue’s back starts sliding lower, and they bite his lip in warning. Zazrit flinches, a sharp intake of breath, then  _ grins _ into the kiss. He deepens it, lips and tongue and teeth working against Rue’s. It’s been--god, Rue can’t even remember how long since the last time they kissed someone, and despite the mission and the danger (or maybe because of it) they can’t help bracing their arms on Zazrit’s shoulders and sinking their fingers into his hair, licking into his mouth and feeling satisfaction curl in their gut at the soft groan he gives in response. 

But there is still the mission, and there is still the danger. 

Rue pulls back, resting their forehead against his. “Your friend still looking this way?” they ask, barely audible above the ambient noise.

Zazrit tilts his head, just enough to be able to see around Rue. “No,” he says, matching their tone, “looks like she’s heading into one of the back rooms.” 

They wait a moment, draped over Zazrit until they see him relax. “Okay, she’s gone,” he says, and Rue slides back to the booth, already scanning the crowd again and ignoring the warmth of the body next to theirs. “Quick thinking,” he says lightly.

Rue refrains from rolling their eyes. “This may surprise you,” they say, “but as a rule, I find you to be more useful alive than dead.”

“Oh, believe me, Commander,” Zazrit smirks, “I am  _ extremely _ interested in the potential ways you could find me useful.”

“Focus, Zazrit,” Rue says absently. “We have more important matters to attend to.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he says. “Like what?”

Rue’s mouth widens in their own predatory grin. “Like the fact that our target just arrived.”

Zazrit straightens in his seat, following Rue’s gaze to the door. Terezad stands there, chatting with one of the workers. He’s exactly as smarmy as Zazrit had been when they first met him, but without the underlying core of competence that makes Zazrit (mostly) bearable. As they watch, Terezad leers at one of the passing Orion workers, catching her wrist. They exchange a few words, then he follows her toward the arched doorway that, according to the building plans Sage was able to acquire, exits into a hallway of private rooms. 

“Alright,” Rue says, feeling the familiar thrill of the hunt rise in their chest. “Let’s go get our man.”

They look over to Zazrit, who grins back, all teeth. “After you,” he says. 

Rue grabs their crutches and stands, letting a little of their Starfleet steel creep back in as they make their way across the floor. It’s enough that anyone who might look at them and think of engaging thinks twice, and anyone who still might come at them catches Zazrit at their left shoulder and dismisses them both as client and worker. Without looking, Rue knows Zazrit is working his best nonverbal charm, smoothing over whatever suspicions Rue’s “don’t mess with me” has roused. 

They slip past the bouncers at the arch with little more than a wink and a smile from Zazrit. Rue takes a moment to be thankful for lazy people who put more work into their security looking intimidating than being effective, then steps to the wall and leans to peek around the corner to the hall where Terezad went. 

Two Orion guards stand flanking a door thirty feet away. And unlike Terezad, these two are fighters.

Zazrit steps up behind Rue, sensing the sudden tension. “Okay. Not ideal.” He rests one hand on Rue’s shoulder, pressing down ever so slightly. “Follow my lead.”

And Zazrit steps out from around the corner. 

Rue takes one second to devote their imagination to the glorious image of using their crutches to bash his  _ idiotic head in _ before they follow.

“Evening, gentlemen.” Zazrit swaggers up to the door, Rue close behind. “How’s it going?”

The guards look unimpressed. 

“Listen, my friend here-” He loops an arm around Rue’s waist, pulling them against his side, “-they have an, ah. An  _ arrangement _ with your client, you might say.” He arches his eyebrows, making it very clear what that “arrangement” entails. “Share and share alike, you know? Anyway, he’s expecting us. You mind?”

Zazrit nods his head at the door, cheerful expression firmly in place.

The guards glance sidelong at each other. “Boss didn’t say anything about someone else joining him.” One of them says, voice laced with suspicion.

Zazrit raises a disdainful eyebrow. “You think he tells everything he does to you two?” He snorts. “Come on.”

It almost works. One of the guards nods slightly, clearly about to start commiserating about his terrible employer, but the other frowns. “I’m gonna call this in,” he says, hand going to the comm unit on his belt.

He doesn’t get that far. 

Zazrit must feel Rue tense, because he lets go of their waist and steps to the side, freeing Rue’s arms so they can sweep one of their crutches into the Orion guard’s stomach. In their periphery, they can see Zazrit deck the other guard in the jaw, sending him stumbling back against the wall. “Quiet,” they hiss, and Zazrit nods sharply. The last thing they want is to attract more security. He lunges forward, grappling at the guard until he has him in a chokehold, dragging him away from Rue as he flails. And that’s when Rue’s attention is forcibly drawn back to the other guard, because he grabs the crutch that just slammed into his gut and wrenches it out of their grasp. He grins, clearly thinking he’s just won some kind of incredible advantage. 

Rue uses their now free hand to punch him in the throat. And when he doubles over, gasping, they brace their weight on the other crutch and drive their elbow right into the base of his skull. The guard drops in a crumple, unconscious heap, and Rue catches their crutch before it even hits the ground. 

“Damn.” They turn and see Zazrit, having dropped his now choked-out guard to the floor, is looking at them, eyebrows raised appreciatively. “Have I mentioned that I love watching you work?” he asks, grinning. “Because I  _ love _ watching you work.” 

“Eyes on the prize, Zazrit.” But Rue smiles anyway. “Let’s get our guy.” At their nod, Zazrit opens the door and slips inside. After a quick check of the hall, they follow.

Terezad and the Orion worker are on the bed. As soon as they come into the room, the worker jumps back, shrinking in the corner and opening her mouth to scream.

“Whoa, easy, easy,” Zazrit says, hands splayed in a calming gesture, “we’re not here for you.” Slowly, telgraphing his movements, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a credit chip. “Here.” He tosses it to the woman. “Get out of here. Wait two minutes after we’re gone, then you can call as much security as you like. Deal?”

The woman catches the chip, examines it, then tucks it into the front of her extremely low-cut top. She nods. “Deal.” She slips out the door, closing it silently behind her.

“What the hell?!” Terezad sits up on the bed, throwing back the silken sheets. “Who the hell are you? What do you think you’re-”

In less than a second, Rue has moved next to the bed and pressed the end of their crutch against his throat. “Quiet.” He quiets. “Keep your mouth shut until I tell you to speak. Nod if you understand.” He nods.

Rue presses their crutch into his throat  _ just _ a little, then pulls back. Keeping their eyes on their target, they reach down and tap the brooch pinned to their chest. “Commander Rue to  _ Sally Ride _ .”

The comms unit, cleverly disguised after some of Chief Ren’s tinkering, beeps. “Captain Martinez here.” The captain’s voice is tinged with relief. “How’s it going down there, Commander?”

“All according to plan, sir,” Rue replies. Zazrit raises an incredulous eyebrow. They ignore him. “Three to beam aboard.”

“Copy that. Standby for transport.” 

Rue smiles as the familiar golden mist surrounds them and their body is scattered into stars.

Later, back onboard  _ Sally _ , Rue is standing in front of the brig, observing Terezad through the one-way mirror that makes up the facing wall, when they feel another person come up to stand beside them.

“All according to plan, huh,” Zazrit says.

They don’t look at him. “Essentially.”

“So you kissing me in the middle of recon.” Rue turns just enough to see Zazrit also looking pointedly at the prisoner. “Was that part of the plan?”

Rue tilts their head. “You’re a strategist. You should know by now, no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

He smirks. “Still. That was some contact.”

They sigh. “I made a call, it kept us from blowing our cover. If there’s a problem-”

“Oh, no problem.” He sticks his thumbs into the pockets of his absurdly tight leather pants, a move that drops his shoulders and displays his bare chest in a way that Rue thinks has to be deliberate. “You did what you had to for the sake of the mission, I get it.”

“Then what?” 

Zazrit grins. “If that’s what you do for the sake of the mission, Commander…” He turns to face them then, eyes sparkling. “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re like when you’re doing things based on more… private motivation.” His grin widens. “And what else you’d do with me.”

They look at each other for a moment. Rue is the first to break eye contact, looking down as they step forward. “You want to know what else I’d do with you, Zazrit?”

They look up at him from under their eyelashes. His face has gone from cocky to still, almost vulnerable, clearly not expecting this response from them. Slowly, he nods.

Rue presses themself up on their crutches until they can speak right into Zazrit’s ear, pressed nearly body-to-body against him, feeling his heat and the soft flush of his breath. They speak softly, clearly, so sweetly the words practically drip off their tongue.

“I’d do this.” 

And they drop back down into their crutches and step smartly to the side, heading off down the hall away from the brig before Zazrit can do so much as blink. “Let me know when something interesting happens,” they call over their shoulder. 

In a few hours, back in their quarters, they’ll pull up the security footage for a look at Zazrit’s face in this moment, which they’re fairly certain will be priceless. For now, they head for the turbolift and set aside all thoughts of the handsome Orion.

They’ve got work to do. 

**Author's Note:**

> @criticalrole well, what do you think i DO when you guys LEAVE all the time??????????


End file.
